


Eternos

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-13 15:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20176870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Yuzu watches Javi'sPrometoexhibition program and comes to an unexpected conclusion





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, here is Javi's performance: 
> 
> [Prometo - Javier Fernández](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gI3y8nivHkg)
> 
> And here are the lyrics of the song, with English translation: 
> 
> [Pablo Alborán - Prometo](https://lyricstranslate.com/en/prometo-i-promise.html)
> 
> I mean, look at this. This fic was bound to happen sooner or later.

Yuzu doesn’t understand how he hadn’t _seen _it until now. He watches, mesmerized, as Javi bids his final goodbye to competitive ice, gliding in the light of a single spotlight in an outfit so understated Yuzu would tease him about it if the skating didn’t make up for the lack of decoration.

He had watched Javi’s _Prometo_ that one time at Fantasy on Ice, the summer after the Olympics, and was late for his own performance because of it. He had watched, but completely failed to _see_ it for what it was, too giddy and dazed by the post-Olympic high to notice.

Now he does, eyes glued to the screen as Javi smooths his palm across the ice in a reverent, loving gesture, a gentler, softer, more sensual mirror to the way Yuzu likes to say thank you to the ice after each of his skates. Javi caresses the ice with his blades, dances on his toe-picks, comes to dramatic stops before he floats into the next part of this beautiful choreography, his arms now lifted, now dropping down to his sides in supplication. It is very unlike Javi. It is very much like Yuzu.

His eyes fill with tears at the signature back-counter that looks as if it would lead up to a triple axel. It doesn’t, of course, because Javi never could quite conquer that entry – it has always been Yuzu’s cherry on top. Instead, Javi adds a three turn, and launches into a triple toe. It is different, but Yuzu understands the tribute, both moved and humbled by it.

It feels like Javi is reaching straight into his heart with the series of elements that are so familiar, so ingrained in Yuzu’s muscle memory that he could do them half asleep, and yet look so different now, on Javi. The flying camel with the mid-spin knee bend that Yuzu had used in his _Notte Stellata_. The Ina Bauer, Javi’s arms spread wide as if to invite a lover into his embrace. The delayed jumps that Yuzu has come to favor in recent years in appreciation of their historic significance.

It is all there, and even though Yuzu does not understand the lyrics, he understands the skating. This, he knows, is for him, about him, about their years of shared triumphs and tribulations and always hovering on the edge of something _more _throughout their friendship.

He sighs in wonder when the video ends, his chest seemingly full of balloons. He feels elated, like he is floating. The happiness threatens to burst out and, for once, Yuzu thinks he should let it. Now that Javi – his dearest, most amazing Javi – has gone and laid it all out for him to see, there is no reason to hold back anymore.

He checks the time, does a quick timezone conversion. It’s the middle of the night in Europe by now, and Javi is probably exhausted, having just won his seventh European title in a battle that had seemed precariously tipped for a moment after the short program.

Yuzu can wait. He’s been waiting for years, so what’s a few more hours.

*

Yuzu corners Jason in the cafeteria the next morning. He had spent the night barely sleeping, imagining all the things that could be – _would_ be! He allowed the excitement to course through his veins, indulged even in the hot, thick longing that surged up to accompany the pictures of Javi’s hands on his skin and Javi’s body against his own. He touched himself in the darkness, letting his mind stray to places he had previously forbidden himself from entering. Now that he _knows_, he can relish each and every fantasy he had always stomped out in the past.

“Jason, you speak Spanish, yes?” he asks, sitting down opposite the American.

“Yeah, I do. It’s a bit rusty, but we had Spanish all through high school. Why?” Jason smiles at him, good-humored as always.

Yuzu retrieves the carefully folded sheet of paper from his bag and hands it to Jason. “Can you help translate, please?”

Jason frowns in concentration while he skims through the printed out text. “Hey, isn’t this Javi’s exhibition song?” he asks when he comes to the end of the page. 

Yuzu nods, hoping beyond hope that his ears are not turning pink. “What is about?” he asks. The melody is clue enough, of course, even without Javi’s interpretation of the piece. But Yuzu wants to know for sure.

“Well, it’s – hmm,” Jason frowns a bit. “Why don’t you just search for the English translation online?” he looks up to meet Yuzu’s eye.

Yuzu stares at him in consternation. Somehow, that had not occurred to his racing mind as he had searched for the song last night. He drops his face into his palms. “Sorry. Stupid,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Jason laughs. “Here,” he hands Yuzu his phone with the translated lyrics already pulled up on some page.

Yuzu reads each line carefully, and the smile that spreads across his face must look completely idiotic, but he doesn’t care. His eyes begin to sting as all the emotions of the last few years well up inside his heart while he reads the perfect words.

“Is so romantic,” he gasps when he is done. He hands back Jason’s phone.

Jason grins. “As it should be. Javi mentioned he wanted to dedicate it to the love of his life.”

Yuzu can’t help the squeak that escapes him. He covers his mouth with his hand, heart pounding in his chest. He thought he knew what happiness was when they hung his second Olympic gold around his neck, but this – this is different. It’s like the very core of his being floods with such incredible warmth that he is afraid he might just melt. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jason asks, looking at Yuzu with concern.

Yuzu manages a nod. “Thank you for translation, Jason,” he says and gets up from his chair to run over to Jason’s side of the table and squeeze him in a brief half-hug. “I’m very happy now.”

“Okay,” Jason laughs awkwardly, clearly taken aback. “But what – “

“Must go call Javi now,” Yuzu tells him, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Tell him the truth.”

“What – oh!” Jason gasps, and his eyes bug out a little. “Oh. But Yuzu – Yuzu wait, I don’t think that’s –“

Yuzu doesn’t hear the rest of Jason’s sentence. He can’t wait anymore. He rushes through the cafeteria and out into the hallway, heading for the men’s locker room. It is empty at this time, just as Yuzu hoped, and he sits down on one of the benches, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself.

He thinks back to the last time Javi had been in this locker room with him, just a week or so before as he wrapped up his preparations for Europeans. It had felt like a fresh start, those whole three weeks of having Javi back in Toronto. Like turning over a new leaf, delving into the next chapter in their relationship. It had felt like something had unwound between them after the pressure of constant competition had been removed, leaving them both more relaxed, mellow. They had talked openly, admitting things Yuzu never thought they would dare voice. How hard it had been during the Olympic season, not talking and yet ceaselessly thinking of each other to come up with ways of how to best one another. How Javi had felt betrayed when Yuzu had distanced himself following his second silver at Worlds, back in 2016. How Yuzu had thought it was necessary to create some space between them at that point, because he had felt weak, made soft by their friendship on top of his injuries. How wrong Yuzu had been to think that.

Learning all this made Yuzu ache, each new detail of the bitterness they had both felt yanking at him painfully. But it also made his heart lighter, especially when Javi begun smiling halfway through the conversation, his eyes alight with the twinkle that always made Yuzu’s insides turn into mush. And when Javi had hugged him, holding him close for much longer than would have been necessary, Yuzu thought of recklessly telling him everything, down to the last few truths already waiting on his tongue. In the end, he had not, not brave enough to risk it, too afraid it would damage their friendship if Javi knew how Yuzu truly felt about him.

Turns out he needn’t have worried, what with Javi laying it out for him in the open like that, carving each and every gentle feeling into the ice for Yuzu to read.

He exhales a final time and hits the call icon.

“Hi Yuzu,” Javi says when the line connects. He sounds like a smile. “What’s up?”

“Javi.” He would be embarrassed by the way his voice hitches on Javi’s name, but he’s not, too excited to care. “Congratulations!” he says, proud of himself for remembering that Javi actually won a gold medal, that there was more to Europeans than the gala. He had sent Javi a text after the free, of course, but it seems appropriate to say it in person.

“Thank you!” Javi says and Yuzu can imagine him beaming the way he does, his whole face lighting up when he is happy. “It was hard after the short, but I made it!”

“You were great!” Yuzu nods, even though Javi can’t see him. “I watched the gala last night. I saw _Prometo_,” he continues. He can feel his heart hammering a mad staccato against his ribcage. What should he say now? That it took his breath away? That it was more beautiful than anything Yuzu has ever seen? In the end, he says the thing he’s been stopping himself from saying for longer than he cares to remember. “I love you, too, Javi.”

There is silence. It stretches from merely surprised into uncomfortable and Yuzu is suddenly drenched in cold sweat, dread and panic threatening to cut off his breath.

“Um… Excuse me?” Javi finally says after what feels like an eternity, his voice tight and _so_ not what Yuzu had envisioned as he lay in bed last night, fantasizing about how his confession would go.

“I – “ Yuzu starts, grasping at straws and finding none, drowning in sudden despair. “Sorry. I must go, have practice,” he forces out.

“Yuzu, wait – what did you me-“

Yuzu hangs up. He stares at the now dark screen of his phone, his other hand coming to his chest as he takes quick, shallow breaths. Once again, he feels afloat – but this time, it is not happiness lifting him up. It is an unmooring, a tornado ready to sweep him up, and he feels scared and helpless against its pull. 

He had been _wrong_. How could he be wrong, though! Yuzu _knows_ how to read skating. He understands every program instinctively, the emotion behind it, the character – or the lack of one, feeling the genuine joy or pain poured into each stroke of blades.

He had been so convinced – especially because this is Javi. Javi, whose skating Yuzu is as intimately acquainted with as with his own, having spent seven years watching him, studying him, running over his programs in his mind as he tried to find ways to exploit their weaknesses.

How could he have made a mistake _now_, in the most crucial of moments, over a performance that was ringing with love as clearly as the purest tone from a silver flute.

It _was_ love, that much is clear. But it was never love for _him_, Yuzu realizes. The choreography was a mosaic of Yuzu’s style, little nods and touches painstakingly collected and woven together into a new and fascinating whole – but the emotion behind it was not his to claim. It hurts more than anything that Yuzu has ever felt, the vision of each element etched into his memories, a declaration so perfect Yuzu had _known_ beyond the shadow of a doubt what it meant. To admit now that he had been wrong feels like a crash into concrete.

He sobs into the silence of the empty locker room, sagging forward to drop his head into his palms.

Javi doesn’t love him.

That is not new, of course. Yuzu has come to accept the fact of it as the years went by, always leaving them in the same place, teetering along the edge of something that felt way too intense to be only a friendship, but never tipping over. Up until last night, it had been a truth Yuzu could make peace with, as long as he and Javi kept their unique bond. 

It is still the truth. But now Javi knows. Now Javi knows Yuzu’s own truth and there is nothing to shield their friendship from disaster. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Yuzu's bold confession, Javi goes through his program and wonders what it all means.

_ I love you, too, Javi. _

One sentence, a simple phrase, and yet it is enough to keep Javi awake at night. One sentence that had sent him reeling, shocked him to the core of his bones. Of all the things he had expected from Yuzu, this had not been it.

Yuzu, who was always so careful with his words – first because English was a struggle, then because that was who he was when he wasn’t performing. Measured, introspective, always conscious of the impact of what he said and did. 

_ I love you _ , he had said, and if Javi didn’t know better, he would think it was some temporary flight of fancy, an exclamation born of a momentary impulse. But that was not Yuzu. Yuzu meant the things he said. Which meant that Yuzu actually did love him.

It had not been a friendly statement, either. Not the kind of  _ I love you _ you tossed at your friend when they were celebrating a birthday, or when they surprised you with a particularly well-chosen gift. It had been a heartfelt one, a declaration, Yuzu’s voice brimming with the power of it.

Javi sighs, pressing his face into his pillow with a frustrated huff. He should be sleeping. He had just flown home from Minsk earlier that day, and he is exhausted, the strain of competition and the three weeks of grueling training that preceded it finally taking their toll now that the adrenaline has ebbed.

But try as he might, sleep is not coming. Marina is breathing softly on her side of the bed, her body just a small lump under the covers. It should be comforting to be back here, in the apartment they have rented together.

But all Javi can think of is Yuzu. Yuzu at the Toronto Cricket Club, joining Javi for practice despite his barely recovered ankle, smiling so much that his eyes all but disappeared and his nose scrunched up. Yuzu struggling to keep pace with Javi, but soldiering through with the stupid single-minded stubbornness Javi has always admired in him. Yuzu, a solid presence in his arms when they hugged that last day, just the two of them alone in the men’s locker. Javi had held on, and on, unwilling to let Yuzu go and with him such a formative part of his life. It had felt so good, so right, to be able to just spend time together without being yanked in two opposing directions by their friendship and their rivalry.

_ I love you, TOO _ , Yuzu had said, with absolute conviction. As if he was sure the feeling was requited.  _ I saw Prometo. I love you, too. _

Suddenly, Javi can’t stay in bed anymore. He slips out from beneath the covers and walks out into the hallway. It feels suffocating to be here now, in this small place he shares with someone else, when it’s Yuzu’s words echoing inside his mind on repeat.

He finds his suitcase in the living room, standing there waiting to be unpacked. He unzips it and finds his practice gear, pulling it all on with hurried, jerky movements. He’s zipping up his jacket and out of the door before he can think twice, because he needs this, he needs to think, and there’s no better place to think than an ice rink.

He drives to what is now his new home base, here in Madrid, infinitely grateful for the generous gift of unlimited access to private ice outside of the official hours. It is a privilege and even though Javi knows the rink’s management probably didn’t expect him to come skate in the middle of the night, he also suspects they won’t mind.

He lets himself inside, flicking on the lights as he goes. The familiar scent of ice is instantly calming and he breathes in thirsty lungfuls of it. The biting cold wakes him up, charming away the last bits of sleepiness – Javi knows it is a temporary effect, but it feels good nonetheless.

The crunch of fresh ice under his blades is immensely satisfying as he skates a few quick laps, running through the warm-up moves on autopilot. For a few blissful moments, he doesn’t think, just lets himself feel the speed, the wind rushing past as he weaves his way across the ice with swift crossovers in alternating directions.

Then he comes to a stop in the middle of the ice and runs through the choreography of his gala program, flowing through each move, but this time actually paying attention to how they make him feel, the images they conjure up in his mind.

Javi had wanted to dedicate  _ Prometo _ to Marina when he listened to the song, thinking that somehow, this would be a nice goodbye to competitive skating… and a nice hello to a new future, together. It had never quite felt right, though, when he skated it in practice and thought of his girlfriend, somehow falling flat every time. The emotional emptiness was obvious even from the shaky phone videos he had asked various people to record so he could watch them afterwards and check the choreography.

It was at Cricket that the pieces finally fell into place, just now before Europeans. It  _ felt _ right to skate the program thinking of all the good – and the bad – times he had suffered on that ice. All the tears he had spilled, the laughs he had shared, the frustrations and bitterness and camaraderie that seemed to be embedded in the very ice beneath his feet.

He had skated it at Europeans thinking of just that, his years in Toronto.

He thinks of that now, too, the images coming to him quite unbidden with each step and turn and swooping gesture. Yuzu, falling on the quad sal over and over – but doing axels in a way that made Javi both proud and envious. Yuzu and the way he fought with David over his music,  _ demanding _ that the choreography fit his vision for his own skating. The grace Yuzu matured into, moving as if each piece of music he chose to skate to  _ became _ him, giving it his all on each and every run-through – not just physically, but emotionally, his face as alive with movement as his body. The long curve of his exposed neck as he glided into one of those Ina Bauers that hurt Javi’s back just looking at them.

Fuck. Javi stops, breathing heavily. This program, this whole damn program, has never been about Marina at all. It has always been about Yuzu.

And suddenly it makes sense.

_ I watched Prometo. I love you, too. _

Of course Yuzu would watch the program and read it like an open book, because it’s all there, illegible for a random spectator, but spelled out with big bold letters for someone like Yuzu, with his uncanny empathy, his perceptiveness, and his instinctive understanding of art and music and, most of all, skating.

Of course Yuzu would see the message Javi had not even been aware of before it was pointed out to him in the most unexpected of ways.

He stares down at his boots, at the abstract painting of marks he has carved into the ice all around himself. And suddenly, for a breathless, petrifying moment, Javi wonders if, maybe, Yuzu is right. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His sister listens to him in silence as he tells her that him and Marina are parting ways. She takes a sip of her wine when he is done talking, and asks:  
“Are you going back to Toronto now, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... sort of forgot I still had to post part 3. Sorry I made you wait a bit. :) Thank you for all your lovely comments on the previous parts! I am happy you enjoyed this story so far, and hope that chapter 3 will live up to the expectations.

The next weeks are hard. Javi feels wrecked after that late-night epiphany at the rink. Of course Yuzu had seen the things that Javi has been so deeply in denial about that he didn’t even notice them himself… Now Javi needs to make sense of them, somehow, all these feelings that he had not allowed himself to have until now. 

It shakes Javi to the core, because he thought he loved Marina – and in a way, he does, just not enough, not in the right way. It makes the break-up even harder than it would be under normal circumstances, knowing that he does care… but that it is not enough, that it can never be enough now that he can feel the depth of the _other_ love, the one he has been suppressing. He doesn’t even have a good explanation for Marina as she cries into his shoulder before she leaves for good. He doesn’t have a good explanation for his family and friends, either, when they come asking him what is going on, and didn’t he and Marina have plans… 

Most of them content themselves with Javi’s vague story of how things just didn’t seem to work between them, perhaps too concerned by the dark rings under his eyes to want to torture him with more questions. Not Laura, though, who knows Javi better than anyone.

His sister listens to him in silence as he tells her that him and Marina are parting ways. She takes a sip of her wine when he is done talking, and asks:

“Are you going back to Toronto now, then?”

Javi nearly chokes on Laura’s home-cooked paella. “What – why would I - ?” he sputters, his heart hammering in his chest.

Coming clean to himself is one thing – having anyone else know, however, is a completely different story. He’s not ready to divulge the true reasons for this whole situation, especially since most of his family and friends are still convinced he is straight, even though he himself has known for years that his interests can swing either way. He has been with men before, kissed them, made out with them, even exchanged a few hand- and blow-jobs. Nobody knows about that, though. Especially since it had never been anything _meaningful_.

Laura just raises an eyebrow and Javi closes his eyes, then hides his face in his palms.

“Did everyone know? Everyone except _me_?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief and looking back up at Laura, desperate and mortified.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe just people who know you well? For me… Javi, I know what you look like when you’re in love. I remember how you were when you first started dating Miki,” she laughs a little. “You know, by the end of that relationship, it was so obvious that Miki was not the Japanese skater you wanted.”

Javi represses the urge to groan out loud. “I didn’t even realize.”

Laura pats his shoulder. “So are you?” she asks and when he gives her a puzzled look, she explains: “Going back to Toronto?”

Javi had thought about that a lot. He had looked up flights, imagined what he would say, what he would do, how good it would be to…

“No,” he says, then goes on before Laura can comment. “Not right now. It’s almost time for Worlds.”

Laura nods. “You don’t want to distract him. Wise.”

“And I need a bit more time to… I don’t know. Make sense of myself?”

Laura nods to that, too. “You do that, Javi.” She smiles, and Javi feels as if a huge boulder dropped off of his chest. Laura’s support means the world to him. Then she gives him a teasing wink, and he hates her a little, back to being a younger brother to a merciless older sister. “Don’t make him wait too long. He’s quite a cute one, you know. He probably has people lining up for him.”

*

It is with Laura’s words on his mind that Javi boards his plane to Tokyo, just in time for Worlds. He is terrified. Somehow, this feels… monumental. He may have had experiences with men before, but they were trifling. This one is _meaningful_. This is Yuzu, who has always mattered more than Javi liked to admit, even before Javi had, apparently, fallen in love with him.

Javi is terrified that things will backfire, that Yuzu is mad at him, that he fucked it all up when Yuzu bared his heart to him in that phone call and Javi shot him down like the blind idiot that he is. And yet, he hopes… He hopes that it is not too late to fix things. To _start_ things. 

He wants to run to Yuzu the moment he gets to the hotel, but he knows it's not a good idea. Yuzu will be in the zone, in his full tunnel-vision mode, in that state where the only thing that matters is the performance ahead. And so Javi contents himself with sitting in the audience, his stomach roiling with nerves - not only from his own tumultuous emotions, but also from this. The packed arena, the too-warm air that probably makes the ice a nightmare to skate on, the audience that seems to electrify the moment Yuzu sets foot on the ice for warm-up.

He wants to run to Yuzu even more after the short. Yuzu is putting on a brave face in the Kiss and Cry, but Javi knows that inside, he must be dying.

But he waits. There is nothing he can do, other than make things even worse for Yuzu. Javi suspects he had already made things bad enough as is. 

If he was a smarter, more patient man who knows what is good for him, Javi would not be knocking at Yuzu’s hotel room door at 11PM right after the free skate. But he just can’t wait any longer, his mind full of that phone call – _I love you, too_, Javi – and of his own stupidity, and of how terrible Yuzu must have been feeling since… 

Javi can’t help but feel like part of this – the silver medal that he knows will be nothing but a disappointment to Yuzu, no matter how _magnificent _Javi thinks he was in the free – is his fault. He made Yuzu suffer. He needs to fix this.

It takes forever for Yuzu to open the door. And when he does, he nearly slams it shut again the moment he sees Javi. He’s wearing just pajamas, striped loose pants and a plain t-shirt in a shade of blue that Javi instantly loves on him, his hair damp from the shower and his face pink from tears he must have hastily rubbed away before answering the door.

“Yuzu, wait!” Javi shouts and leans into the door, shoving his foot inside.

“Javi, please,” Yuzu pleads, his eyes darting anywhere but to Javi. “I am so embarrassed from competition already. I can’t take more now.”

One of his hands comes up to hide his face and Javi reaches out for his wrist. “Yuzu, please. Can we please just talk. I’m not here to… to make you lose face,” he says and rubs a thumb over Yuzu’s pulse-point, gently. Yuzu’s breath hitches. “Can I come in, please?” Javi asks.

Yuzu sighs, then nods slowly and steps away to let Javi through before closing the door behind them.

There they are, standing in the middle of Yuzu’s room, not quite looking at each other, and Javi suddenly doesn’t know what to say, all of his rehearsed speeches flying straight out of his head when faced with Yuzu’s apparent misery and disappointment.

“I watched you skate,” he says lamely, then winces when he sees the anger that flits across Yuzu’s face.

“It was terrible,” Yuzu says, his mouth pressed into a hard line, his hands balling into fists by his sides.

“No, you were – Yuzu you were great!”

“I lost!” Yuzu snaps, and Javi is taken aback by the tone. Yuzu is usually so good at keeping the darker truths under wraps, even among friends. To see his frustration on display now, like this… Javi feels like something has shifted between them.

He wants to say something comforting, like he always did when Yuzu didn’t win – which was rarely. But before he can open his mouth, Yuzu goes on.

“At least when I lose to Javi, I can be happy with that, I can be happy for you,” he looks up, eyes flashing, and the fire in them is enough to make something flare inside Javi, like a physical thing. Something fierce, and protective, and touched by the knowledge that Yuzu would think of him like that, even in moments of loss. “Now Javi is gone, and I still lose, and it is only disappointment. Not enough, not good enough.” With that, Yuzu turns away, facing the bed and showing Javi his back. He is shaking. “Not good enough for Javi, either.”

Javi suspects he was not supposed to hear that last bit, but he does, and it breaks his heart.

“Yuzu, god, no. You are amazing. Everybody knows that. I know that. You’re more than good enough, you are the best –“

“I am _not the best!_” Yuzu whirls around, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with fresh tears. “Not even for you. I thought I understood, I thought you want me, but I was stupid, like I am stupid thinking I can keep winning – “

It’s instinct. Javi doesn’t know what else to do, hearing this and seeing Yuzu so _hurt_ is nearly paralyzing. His heart is in his throat and all of him is screaming to do something, _anything_, to fix the mess he has made.

And so he steps forward, gathers Yuzu in his arms, and presses his lips to Yuzu’s.

For a long, consternated second they stand there, Javi’s arms around Yuzu’s torso, Yuzu’s balled fists trapped against Javi’s chest, lip-locked and suspended in time. Javi notices how soft and warm Yuzu’s lips are, and how good they feel…

Then Yuzu pushes him away and Javi stumbles backwards, nearly losing his footing.

“I don’t want your pity!” Yuzu cries, looking at Javi with equal parts anger and hurt.

Javi stares at him, partly still stuck on the sensation of Yuzu’s lips under his, so surreal… “Yuzu, I’m not –“ he starts eventually, hesitantly.

“Just stop, Javi.” Yuzu’s voice breaks on his name and he wraps his arms around his chest as if he was cold, or holding himself together so as not to fall apart. “Just leave.”

“No!” Javi says. “Yuzu, listen –“

“I can’t.” It is nearly a sob. “It hurts too much, we can never be friends again, I mess it up – “

It is too much. Javi feels something inside him snap. He steps forward and takes Yuzu’s hands, holds on even as Yuzu tries to tug them away. “Just listen to me, Yuzu. Look at me.” When Yuzu does, Javi takes a breath, and goes on. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot. You didn’t mess up anything,” he shakes his head at that, at his own monumental stupidity. His voice shakes but he is saying this. “You were not wrong. You know me better than I know myself.” He reaches out to touch Yuzu’s cheek, wipe at the tears there.

“What do you mean?” Yuzu whispers, his eyes wide now. Javi can see the brown in them, the color of dark chocolate, and it makes him smile a tiny bit. He has always loved seeing and knowing these little things about Yuzu, the details that make him look all real and vulnerable and human rather than like the invincible warrior he becomes on the ice.

“_Prometo_,” he says and Yuzu flinches, so he goes on quickly. “You were right. It was about you. It was always about you.” He takes a deep breath, and gives Yuzu’s hands a squeeze. He realizes in that moment that he is not terrified anymore, and he cannot believe he wasted so long holding these words back. “I love you,” he says simply. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, and to tell you.”

“You do?” Yuzu says quietly, disbelievingly. The sadness in his eyes is still there, but it seems to be lifting, dissolving.

“I do,” Javi confirms, sliding his fingers between Yuzu’s, linking their hands together. Yuzu lets him. “I love you. And I promise to say that to you again, and again, for as long as you’ll want me to.”

Yuzu stares at him, immobile, for a split-second. Then his eyelashes flutter, and two more tears spill out, but when he looks back up again, his gaze is bright.

This time, the kiss is slower, softer, and more deliberate. Yuzu lays his lips against Javi’s as if they were a question, and Javi answers him. _I promise_, he says, and threads his fingers into Yuzu’s hair, cradling his head. _I promise_, he says, reaching out for Yuzu’s waist and pulling him closer into his embrace. _I promise_, he whispers, not with his mouth, but with his heart.

Javi knows it is not perfect, and there are many things to talk about, and even more things to sort out if they want to make this work. But it is right, and true, and it feels like a beginning. The first step towards eternity.

_Te prometo olvidar mis cicatrices_

_y devolver lo que he robado_

_a tus dos ojos tristes._

_Te prometo que nos mudaremos pronto_

_del fracaso y desconcierto,_

_a la calle del silencio,_

_te prometo que vamos a volvernos eternos._


End file.
